The Other Woman
by Personification of Fluff
Summary: Sango and jealousy. It's always been a problem. She swore she wouldn't get jealous, not of her, but watching Miroku one night, the feeling consumes her. One shot. MS.


Title: _The Other Woman_

Author: the Personification of Fluff

Rating: PG

Summary: I got crazy one night; wrote something sweet. The end. No, really. The end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sango or Miroku; I'm not making money off of this. I just wrote a fic. The title is the same as another fic by Lucinda the Maid, and I don't mean anything buy it, nor am I ripping off any ideas that author has put forward. I just love howthat titlesets the stage.

It's all about appearances.

The Other Woman

Sango gazed across the fire pit. The flickering light of the fire sent small waves of light across her slanting cheekbones, and accentuated her look of jealousy. On the other side of the fireplace lay Miroku. He was on his side, facing towards her, his eyes closed in peaceful repast. Even in the firelight, his long-lashed eyes were conspicuous. It gave his face an uncommon, almost feminine beauty when his lips were pulled back softly into a contented smile, as they were at the moment. One arm supported his head and pillow and the other was wrapped around a young, lithe and feminine form protectively.

He held her against his chest, his nose just touching her head of dark hair. Now and then he breathed in deeply, relishing the scent, and exhaled out of the same contentment that made him smile. She would, sometimes, breathe deeply when she felt his chest expand, and snuggle closer, burying her nose in his robes.

She had to feel safe, wrapped around the monk's arm. She was safe from his perverted grasps, and with Miroku to protect her, she would not have to worry about being in danger. Sango was jealous of her.

Once upon a time, that would have been her wrapped underneath Miroku's arm. Once upon a time, that would have been her whose hair he smelled and who was nestled against his warm body. Once upon the time, she would not have sat across a fireplace from him, away from his scent and laughter, away from those hands she had grown to love, and away from the voice which made her blush without effort.

The other woman was happy. Sango could not begrudge her that happiness. She was safe; more than anything Sango was glad the other woman was safe. She simply wished, as she sometimes did, that she was the one wrapped in those arms again.

When she thought such jealous things, she hated herself, and hated herself more when she accepted that it was the truth. She was almost green with envy, and she had no right to be.

"What are you thinking about, Sango?" She was still staring at him. His eyes were still closed. He knew she was staring without having to bother to look. Slowly, his eyes opened. Clear blue-grey, violet in the light of the cracking fire, they were honest and clear and void of laughter. His arm around the young woman tightened protectively, and his grin broadened with pride at the beautiful thing he held. His grin widened again when he saw her cheeks flare red. "Jealous?"

"What reason have I to be jealous, Houshi-sama?" she hotly countered. Her brown eyes narrowed at him, daring him to continue.

Miroku was never one to _not_ take a risk. "Because once I held you like this. You liked it, I know you did. I liked it, too…"

"In more ways than one," Sango suggestively accused. He ruffled his hair and smiled in agreement.

"I hear that it's normal to feel like you've been replaced. People naturally get jealous. Things change with time, and sometimes those changes aren't ones we foresee or expect and therefore, cannot plan for." He smiled suggestively and slowly retracted his other arm from underneath his pillow. Miroku lifted a corner of his bed roll. The girl in his arm shivered and nestled closer, letting out a tiny, cat-like sound of protest. Miroku craned his neck to kiss her hair lovingly before he turned back to Sango.

"There's room for two, you know."

Sango actually found herself eyeing the bed. It did look inviting. She blushed, and it was so becoming Miroku found himself contemplating running to her and taking her into his arms. She lifted her hand and began to chew her finger in contemplation. "Do you think it's proper?"

"Come on. We all love each other. We're one big happy family."

She paused for a moment longer. Her jealousy was evaporating and she was becoming antsy. Sango knew she couldn't say no. She wanted to be tucked into that roll with them, his arm around her and hers around the young woman's, everyone protecting each other and reassuring them with familiar sounds and scents. She wanted to lay her head against his chest and feel his lips raining kisses on her cheeks like she had in the past. She wanted to fall asleep cautiously, awaiting a playful squeeze or grope of triumphant from Miroku for staying up the longest. Sango decided to give him one more chance.

"Are you sure?"

His smile was replaced by a frown, if only for a moment. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure."

Sango jumped up from her spot on the floor and crossed the floor to Miroku's bedroll. She slipped inside easily, barely a peep emerging from the sleeping girl. Sango reached out, stroking her hair adoringly. She then turned to Miroku, her heart thumping nervously when his strong arm settled around her muscular shoulders. He drew her close and kissed her lips gently, and Sango surrendered herself to it completely.

His head back down on the pillow, Sango followed him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her hand across his chest, she placed it over the hand of the woman on Miroku's other side. She looked back up at her husband and gave him another kiss.

"No matter how many kids we have, you still have to hold me like this."

Miroku offered her a genuine smile before it turned licenscious. His hand quickly moved from her shoulders to her buttocks as he gave one a light squeeze. "And miss having this within an arm's reach? Never. But I only have so many hands, Sango."

Sango reached up and wrapped her hand around his. "Then I claim this one."

He looked at the hand that once had held the _kazaana_. He glanced to his other side at the sleeping face of the younger woman. He gave both women a kiss. "It's yours, Sango."

And so Sango slept, with one arm around Miroku. And so Miroku slept, with one arm around Sango. And beside Miroku, with one arm from each parent like a sheltering wing from the night and the cold, slept their daughter.


End file.
